Is it just me or have they grown heaps in 3 months??!!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Roma Roma!
Just like they say, the best places, you come across by accident.
The first was the little wine bar that serves, and this is no exaggeration, the best olives on earth together with the drinks.
Wine is expensive, but if you come during happy hour (it goes for about seven hours every day, so definitely doable) and if you bond well with the nice waitress (saying "Ciao Splendida" to her seemed to have done the trick), you are guaranteed a good night that's still compliant with the current fiancial crisis.
Then there was Enzo. That's the restaurant where everybody is super cranky and has no time for you, but that's just a facade, coz everybody knows they love you at Enzo.
They also have a tendency to tell you (rather that suggest) what to order, because only stupid turisti order artichokes deep fried on this side of the river!!!
And the little bookstore with the nice old English lady who could speak to you for hours on how the light in Rome will make her live forever. I assumed she was the owner, but then found out she was just a random who decided to spend the day there...
Oh and the weird restaurant, managed by this magnificant (can't think of any other way to describe him) older Italian gentleman with a white mane and an Armani suit, who looked like one of those older Italian men who sweep American housewives off their feet during their midlife crisis. Funny enough his wife (girlfriend?) works at the restaurant with him. And funny enough she is American. Good on her I say. And good on him. He also took me by the hand (literally) into the kitchen, to help me pick a dessert, and then overruled my choice and picked a different one for me... It was a good choice - I will give him that.
I couldn't stick a camera in his face, I'm too classy for that, but if you look closely- you can see him on the right.
You do get some insight into the American side of the family when you go to the WC downstirs... A little ummm cooky. Its a bit like a shrine to Dolls and all sorts of things most people place in the big St Vinnie's bins.
The first was the little wine bar that serves, and this is no exaggeration, the best olives on earth together with the drinks.
Wine is expensive, but if you come during happy hour (it goes for about seven hours every day, so definitely doable) and if you bond well with the nice waitress (saying "Ciao Splendida" to her seemed to have done the trick), you are guaranteed a good night that's still compliant with the current fiancial crisis.
Then there was Enzo. That's the restaurant where everybody is super cranky and has no time for you, but that's just a facade, coz everybody knows they love you at Enzo.
They also have a tendency to tell you (rather that suggest) what to order, because only stupid turisti order artichokes deep fried on this side of the river!!!
And the little bookstore with the nice old English lady who could speak to you for hours on how the light in Rome will make her live forever. I assumed she was the owner, but then found out she was just a random who decided to spend the day there...
Oh and the weird restaurant, managed by this magnificant (can't think of any other way to describe him) older Italian gentleman with a white mane and an Armani suit, who looked like one of those older Italian men who sweep American housewives off their feet during their midlife crisis. Funny enough his wife (girlfriend?) works at the restaurant with him. And funny enough she is American. Good on her I say. And good on him. He also took me by the hand (literally) into the kitchen, to help me pick a dessert, and then overruled my choice and picked a different one for me... It was a good choice - I will give him that.
I couldn't stick a camera in his face, I'm too classy for that, but if you look closely- you can see him on the right.
You do get some insight into the American side of the family when you go to the WC downstirs... A little ummm cooky. Its a bit like a shrine to Dolls and all sorts of things most people place in the big St Vinnie's bins.
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